


Of Illnesses and Sargents

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Illness, No beta reader, Prompt Fic, bruce is sick, bucky wants to make him better, forgive any mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:36:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A prompt fill. The prompt: When any Avenger starts to sniffle Bucky is ON. He makes them wear thick socks and tells them to blow their and sits them up with a bowl of hot water and a few drops of eucalyptus oil and a towel to put over their heads while they inhale the steam, he makes his Ma's chicken soup with extra garlic. He knows this shit.





	Of Illnesses and Sargents

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [MissLexi54](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLexi54/pseuds/MissLexi54) in the [marvel_movieverse](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/marvel_movieverse) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> When any Avenger starts to sniffle Bucky is ON. He makes them wear thick socks and tells them to blow their and sites them up with a bowl of hot water and a few drops of eucalyptus oil and a towel to put over their heads while they inhale the steam, he makes his Ma's chicken soup with extra garlic. He knows this shit.

Winter was Bucky’s least favorite time of year, and not because it reminded him of Russia with all the damned snow. No, it wasn’t the decades of psychological torture and being frozen and thawed that made this time of year his least favorite. It, also, wasn’t that his metal arm became sluggish in cold temperatures and, maybe, once froze to his nose when he rubbed it on reflex. 

No, Winter was his least favorite time of year because it was when every Avenger seemed to get sick with colds and even the flu. Bucky tried to be proactive by making each Avenger a “stay better basket” with preventative medicines along with warm winter gloves and hat and scarf and socks. The first year he made them Tony cracked joke after joke until Steve snapped that flu fatalities weren’t unheard of in 1940.

“Achoo,” a soft sneeze came from the living quarters, barely loud enough for him to hear in his own room, but Bucky snapped into action with a suddenness that belayed his years in the military.

The culprit, Bruce, looked pretty miserable with red nose and watery eyes. He started when Bucky walked into the room, even looking a little green around the edges until he calmed, “I’m fine, I swear. I think I picked up a minor cold from –“ His argument was suddenly cut off as Bucky stuck a thermometer into his mouth.

“You’re sick,” Bucky knew he sounded a bit hurt, but he knew why his teammates avoided him this time of year. Whenever one them started to sniffle they would find cups of tea, packets of Emergen-C, and containers of soup in their quarters. “You should have told me, instead of hiding for the past few days. I might have been able to stop this before it progressed.”

Bruce took the thermometer out of his mouth as it beeped, “99.1. I barely have a fever, and I thought I could just shrug it off. Masters, one of the new scientists that Tony hired, has children and probably brought the illness with him.” He handed the thermometer back to Bucky, “You don’t have to take care of us when we are sick,” He tried to soften his words for the Sargent who still didn’t say much, “We appreciate the gifts, but it is not your job.”

Bucky flinched at the kind tone, but to him the words hit like acid as they slowly ate into his soul. Taking care of his teammates, especially when they were sick, was his penance. It was his own way of atoning for all those he had killed as the Winter Soldier, even though he knew a few bowls of soup and pairs of socks didn’t even come close, and it worked to wipe out small bits of red on his ledger.

“I’ll bring you some soup,” Bucky pulled out a self-heating thermos of tea (Tony designed them for long missions because everyone was bitchy without hot coffee. Even if it was instant.) and pressed it into Bruce’s hand. “This is cinnamon black tea with a bit of honey. Natural antibacterial properties, and it tastes pretty good as well. The soup is simple, just chicken noodle with garlic, but it tastes pretty good.”

Bruce nodded, “That would be appreciated.” He decided that Bucky was immovable on this topic as a boulder, and he didn’t feel like breaking him just to be alone. Actually, if he was totally honest, it felt nice to have someone care enough about him to take care of him when he was sick.

\-----------------------

Steve watched Bucky in the kitchen as he chopped up vegetables for the soup. “Hey Buck, what are you making?”

“Ma’s chicken noodle soup,” Bucky didn’t even look up from his project, “It’s been a long while since I made it, but it should taste good. I’m making it for Bruce, but I suspect that others will succumb soon enough.”

Steve’s mouth watered, it had been…a long time since he had eaten Bucky’s mother’s famous chicken noodle soup. She would put so much garlic in that you’d still smell a week later, but it was delicious. Chicken wasn’t easily purchased, especially not with the war rations, but she would always find some for her soup when Bucky or Steve were sick.

“Can I help?”

“If you want you can make the noodles,” Bucky looked up at Steve with a small smile, “Just don’t add too much salt.”

Steve groaned at the memory of the first time he had made pasta, after spending months watching Bucky’s mom make the long strands, and had accidentally added 3x as much salt. The pasta was inedible, but Bucky’s mom made the next batch with him and it turned out delicious. “I’m sure I can manage that.”

They lapsed into a companionable silence, not the uncomfortable one that existed when Bucky was deep in his memories of death and pain, and they found themselves back in the same old rhythms of cooking from when they were young. Soon enough the soup was simmering away, the pasta was drying, and the kitchen was spotless.

“Steve,” Bucky broke the silence, “thank you for fixing me.” The time in Wakanda had helped him find inner peace, no longer flagellating himself over time long past, and Bucky knew that T’challa wouldn’t have helped without Steve’s insistence.

Steve smiled, feeling for the first time in a while that his friend was coming back to him even if it was slow, “You save me, and I save you. Now, let’s get Bruce inhaling some steam so that he can breathe. I’m sure that a stuffed nose on the Hulk would be inconvenient.”

Bucky laughed, a sharp but happy sound that shocked both him and Steve, “I have some eucalyptus oil that might help more than just steam.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to do a slightly more angsty fic, seeing as Bucky has some hellish inner-demons, but the ending is pretty nice if I do say so myself. Wrote it in under an hour, my muse was quite helpful, and have no beta-reader. Please forgive any minor mistakes, grammatical errors, and other writing fails.


End file.
